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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855746">Quicksilver</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent'>MagnetoTheMagnificent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flufftober 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>19th Century, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Historical References, Napoleonic Wars, Other, Sad Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley gets accosted by a peddler, and had an important conversation with Aziraphale.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flufftober 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Quicksilver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley trudged towards Aziraphale's bookshop, holding his coat closer against himself. He needed to speak to his friend. Something was weighing down on his chest, and he was restless. </p><p> </p><p>"Excuse me, sir," a street peddler said, shaking him out of his introspection. </p><p>Crowley glared at him.</p><p>"What is it?" he hissed, clearly not in the mood for small talk.</p><p>The peddler flinched slightly, but continued. </p><p>"You seem like you may find use of my ointment," he told him, holding up a small bottle. </p><p>"I don't need your ssssnakeoil," Crowley replied curtly. </p><p>"Oh, it's not snakeoil, sir. This is a quicksilver ointment, sir. It can cure your, ah, affliction," the peddler explained, gesturing to the demon's tinted glasses. </p><p>"You think I'm a bloody ssssyphilitic?" Crowley scoffed, almost amused. </p><p>"Work on your marketing technique," he chuckled, and pushed onward, leaving a baffled and embarrassed vendor. </p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, Aziraphale was in his bookshop, completely oblivious to the outside world, absorbed in a book. </p><p>"Angel," Crowley whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>Aziraphale jumped. </p><p>"Oh! You startled me, my boy!" he exclaimed. </p><p>Crowley glanced at the angel's abandoned tea cup. </p><p>"Must be a good book," he remarked, handing him a fresh cup. </p><p>"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale said, taking the cup gratefully.</p><p>"So what brings you here? A new temptation?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley shook his head. </p><p>"I came to warn you. I'm, ah, going to be away for a while," he said softly. </p><p>Aziraphale's marble eyes widened. </p><p>"Where are you going? Should I be concerned?" he asked with concern. </p><p>"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be, y'know, sleeping. Don't know for how long," Crowley answered evasively.</p><p>"Sleeping?" </p><p>Crowley sighed. </p><p>"Angel, you heard the news from Europe. Napoleon fancies himself the next Caesar, and I don't want to be around when that happens again."</p><p>Aziraphale glanced at his old friend, understanding, but regretful. </p><p> </p><p>"Is there anything I can do?" </p><p>"Cover for me? I'll still be in my flat, just with a weakened life force from, you know, being essentially in a coma. You'll know where I am, but they won't."</p><p>Aziraphale nodded somberly. </p><p>"I'll miss you, my dear," he admitted. </p><p>Crowley looked away shamefully. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, angel. I just- I can't bear another Inquisition. It's easier if I'm not there," he grimaced. </p><p>"Should I say sweet dreams?" Aziraphale asked weakly.</p><p>"I'll see you around, angel," Crowley said with a sad smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally! A chance to use my knowledge of syphilis! (I had a huge hyperfixation on syphilis a few years ago, and so have a lot of knowledge on the matter that rarely comes to use)</p><p>From the 17th to 19th century, people afflicted with the disease would often wear sunglasses, since one of the symptoms was light sensitivity. <br/>Syphilis was commonly treated with an ointment made from quicksilver, or liquid mercury.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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